My son is 17 today. One hell of a wild ride and a year to go before he's on his own. I don't know whether I should be relieved or scared. Probably both. For this week's #WednesdayWritings I submit to you Cry. A poem about motherhood.
Cry A baby cries Nothing fills me with more fear Am i good enough? Will he know me? Am I up to this? 280 days of insecurity led to this 6720 hours of thinking and rethinking my choice My desire for motherhood Making a choice to try 403200 minutes of breathing for another Listening to frightening advice Feeling the naysayers tell me This wasn’t right Deflecting badly the 1001 pages thoughts expressions telling me everything from lanolin for tender suckling to poisoned needles will make him sick 280 nights of worrying myself to sleep A baby cries Nothing fills me with more relief I did it! My body did this! This being. He lived Through 6720 hours of his mother Worrying Through doctors taking my choices away And cutting him out His beautiful face Covered in the substance That kept him alive all this time Red skin and dark hair I was made for this I was created with organs That held him close I live in a world where science Can create those organs for others All this So that I could love him So that he could grow up knowing love A million tiny movements Inside of me And I meet him face to face A baby cries Exhaustion covers the worry Is he hungry? Is he scared? Is he sick? Do I need a doctor? Does he have a rash? Will it get worse because I didn’t see it in time? Don’t overfeed Don’t underfeed Use diaper rash ointment every time Never use talc Don’t eat spicy food Did I eat something spicy today? Is that why he’s crying? A baby cries Blinking sleep from my eyes I hold him close The routine takes thought away Food Diaper Burp Cuddles Endless nights rocking in place No rocking chair in sight Taught me it’s easier To just lay side by side Ignoring a thousand complaints A thousand what if’s Naysayers using it as explanation For my bad parenting For every time my son cries His little baby cheek rests on my breast Warm body tucked in next to mine And I know I made the right choice Tonight And all those nights ago When I chose love A baby cries He cries and cries and cries No end in sight No breast No bottle No diaper No toy No sound No love No touch Makes one bit of difference They’re all right about me I can’t do this I’m not a good mom Why won’t he stop? It’s all the spicy food I like It’s the formula He’s allergic breast milk He’s allergic to peas Too much sun Too little fresh air Everyone has an answer That tells me I’m doing this wrong But not one of them Can make him stop Make him sleep A baby cries For hours everyday I’m a mess I just want someone to hold me Love me Tell me it will be okay That’s all he wants This being with my son’s face Crying I rock him through Singing to drown it out Never giving up Strength I never knew I had Showing this tiny person Love One day When the nightmares are too scary When the bully pushes him down He’ll know I love him He’ll know he can come to me You cry little boy You cry for however long it takes I’m here We’ll cry together I’m your mom I love you A baby cries Stretching his little baby legs Urge to move and explore Pulling him farther and farther From my protection What will he put in his mouth? What will he touch? Should I be keeping closer watch? Should I spank? Should I shout? Should I laugh? Should I pen him in to a tiny space Or leash him to my wrist? Should I let him find out Things hurt Or protect from every last lesson The world has to offer? I am not up to this Moving about thing Why can’t you just smile From your carseat And bat at toys I dangle? Oh no No! No that! Don’t put that-- Ugh --in your mouth Well no wonder the tears Stream down your face That should never be in your mouth I’m a horrible mother And the questions About my ability And sanity begin A baby cries Weary I shake my head And hold him close Cleaning the mess And stains He looks to me Like I have all the answers Like I can make any booboo better For a moment I think I can There will be a day When love is no longer enough To heal the hurts of the world But that day is not today He moves He’s a baby Nothing is safe from A marauding mind And flailing arms and legs And today a lesson was learned He’s alive He smiles reaching For the next NoNo I seem to have forgotten to move Laughter And fearlessness He knows I will catch him Every single time I know I’ve done everything right A baby cries This one is not mine But I know how old I know what it wants Just by sound I didn’t know I had a super power Given to me by my son Instinct drives me to tell This hollow eyed woman Fear and exhaustion in her gaze What the baby needs But I only smile Remembering all the advice All the times I thought I wasn’t good enough And I know my words are not what she needs Eventually she’ll find the love She’ll know She’s strong enough Good enough A mom A baby cries A little girl While her brother watches on Nothing fills me with more fear Nothing fills me with more relief Nothing fills me with more Love
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![]() I’m going to start this blog with a plea to the readers. Please remember when raising your children, you are not looking to create a well behaved child; you are looking to create a well rounded adult the rest of us can live with. How many people did I just piss off? I hope a lot. That will keep you reading, and now I have the chance to explain why. The childhood condition is a temporary one. In the average lifespan of 80 to 90 years, the time a person spends as a child is less than 15% of their total life. I’m not a math person, so that’s as close to a solid number you’re going to get from me, but let that sink in. 15% of a lifetime is spent learning how to be a person. This doesn’t count the teen years, where you are mostly an adult just learning how to make good decisions and what your beliefs are and how to handle society with those beliefs. With 85% of our lives being adults why do we have such a short view of parenting? I’m not raising children. I’m raising people to be functioning adults. From the very first lesson, to the day they walk out my door the last time, I am making an effort help a person become the best they can be. I’m not super mom. I make a lot of mistakes. I try hard, and cry a lot. But I’m not focused on my kids being kids. I’m focused on who they will become. This is one of those things, that once said (or written) becomes an ‘aha’, ‘well that’s a no brainer’ kind of idea. Deep down we all want our children to have a future and the choices we make in regards to parenting, both good and bad, are all to that goal. The problem is the everyday choices, good and bad, get lost in the shuffle. Parenting is hard. No one age is any harder or easier than any other. They all come with their own joys and pitfalls. Occasionally individual children have ages that are easier than others, but no one GREAT age over all. Kids have temper tantrums. My 10 year old STILL has temper tantrums almost daily. People see this and try to judge what kind of parent I am. Obviously I must be doing something wrong. Children who are given consistency don’t act like this, right? In this case, wrong. I have never once in either of my children’s lives given in to a temper tantrum. Not once. I have one particularly interesting memory that many parents laugh over when they hear the story of my son at age 2. I was very pregnant with my daughter. About to burst in a few weeks. I was a single parent at that time. I won’t bore you with the drama, but things were very hard for us. I’d had to take public transportation with my heavy belly and a 2 year old on a 30 minute ride to get to the closest store I could pay a bill at. I’d learned by then to pack snacks and toys and things to do. I used the small cane stroller for ease on the bus, and otherwise employed all the tricks I could think of. But my son was 2 and having to sit still and behave on a bus ride and walk for long distances and wait in lines. Honestly there’s only so much a kid can take in that circumstance and there was no babysitter to leave him with, no kindly grandma nearby or even a trustworthy neighbor. I couldn’t wait to pay the bill or I would lose electricity. I couldn’t pay early because the doctor had taken me off work so I had no income worth talking about. All the standard ideas parents and well meaning non-parents alike had for avoiding this situation were just not going to work. We were in this ‘melt down waiting to happen’ place and no way to get out of it. Anyone used to small children, parents or not, can see what is coming. I don’t remember what I had to say no to, but that was the last straw for his baby mind. He reached his limit in the middle of a store, waiting at the service counter. I was rightfully exhausted, in pain from pregnancy problems and pretty much at my limit too. I think it was the exhaustion that led to my response. He sprawled his little baby butt on the floor of the store kicking and screaming. As tantrums go, this was a mach 4. I sighed and conducted my business. I carefully scooted him away from everyone else and leaned against the counter watching him. After a bit he stopped and looked at me as if to say, “Have you had enough yet? Did I get my way?” I know he was 2 and probably didn’t really understand what I said, but I looked at him and asked, “Are you done yet?” He wasn’t. This went on for another 10 minutes before he was tired enough to give up. I’m not entirely sure he even remembered what the problem was. I was too tired to carry him out of the store, but if I did where was I going to take him? Truth be told he was beyond my high risk pregnancy weight limit so I could have done myself and his germinating sister damage. The responses I got from people during this episode were an entire study in psychology. Some laughed and encouraged me. Even not knowing I really had no choice here, they got it. They may or may not have been parents. Some shook their heads in disgust. They may or may not have been parents. Some openly glared at me. I’m pretty sure they were not parents, but they might have been. All I could think during this was that I was too tired to care what anyone thought of me and if I gave into him now, no matter how tired I was, he’ll never learn. I wasn’t thinking, oh then he’ll be bad more often. I was thinking how pathetic it would be to watch a grown man throw a tantrum (this of course excludes people with various issues like autism or FAS, etc.). The bad part is, in my lifetime I have seen, otherwise mentally and emotionally healthy adults throw temper tantrums or think the world is their oyster. These people, as annoying as they are, have not been taught to be adults. For whatever reason, their parent’s eyes were not on the prize…the end result. I don’t mean to be accusatory. Parenting is literally the hardest job on the planet, and the most important…and the most rewarding. As I said before I have not always made the right choice or been perfect, but my eye is always on the prize. My kids suck at doing dishes. They rush through and put things away dirty, they leave water everywhere, they break things. Sure it’s easier and more effective to just do the dishes myself, and sometimes I’ve so had it with them I do, but what do they learn? If I don’t stick to it now, when they move out on their own they’ll get sick or have bug infestations because they don’t know how to do the dishes right. Sure it’s easier to just let them wear the morally reprehensible clothing options (tube tops, skirts that show butt cheeks, writing across the ass of pants, adds for drugs or alcohol) their friends wear, but then what kind of self respect am I teaching them? What kind of mates are they going to end up with (gay or straight) then? Sure it’s easier to just give the kid a candy bar or chips or caffeinated soda, but if I don’t work to give them healthy bodies now, how can I expect them to be healthy adults? How can I expect them to make good food choice and to know that while this piece of pizza tastes great if they have too much they’ll feel sick. I have to show them those connections. I read a great blog post by Matt Walsh about peoples’ reactions to public temper tantrums. It was a great read and made some valid points. I encourage you to read it. What I loved even more about the post was the conversation that ensued about it. It wasn’t heavily abusive like I’ve seen some of those things go, but had a lot of great points and counter points. The readers really thought about what he had to say. Some agreed and some didn’t. But it prompts me to say this: When you see a child melting down in a public place, I know you are annoyed and irritated and parents and non parents alike wish the child would just stop remember this: What kind of adult do you want to live with for 85% of their lives? This 15% where parents work their hardest is short lived and the choices they make now effect an entire generation. Remember as well that you have no idea what choices the parent has so don’t assume they can just leave or that good parents don’t have kids that throw temper tantrums. Society as a whole, parents and non parents alike, need to keep their eyes on the prize and stop judging. Maybe if you, the person who may or may not have children, who may or may not be well behaved, took a moment to think about what kind of adult you want to share space with will do things like encourage the parent in question to stay the course because you don’t want this child thinking adults get to do these things. You know that if the child does grow up thinking they can act like that, you’re the one that will have to share this planet with them. |
Susan SimoneSusan is a writer and artist by day, a child and pet wrangler by night, and occasional crazy person on the weekends. She walks the path of a Siedr and strives to grow day by day. Archives
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